


The Many Advantages of Saint Marie as a Honeymoon Destination

by Million_Moments



Category: Death in Paradise, Doc Martin (TV)
Genre: Cousins, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Honeymoon, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Million_Moments/pseuds/Million_Moments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where better to have a proper honeymoon than Saint Marie? What could go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apparent Advantages

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of hope that fans of one show, who are familiar with the premise of the other/seen a few episodes of it, would be able to read this story without too many issues. However, since I am a fan of both shows, I have no idea if this is true. Spoilers for Series 6 episode 1 of Doc Martin.

“When you have a moment, please take a look at this and see if you feel the location is appropriate,” Martin passed her the brochure with very little ceremony, and Louisa’s heart sank for a moment – she feared he’d changed his mind about schools again. No more than a quick glance at the cover was needed to show how very wrong she was.

“This is a holiday brochure!” She looked up at her husband, smiling in wonder. “For a Caribbean island!”

“Yes,” was the only reply she got.

“You want to go on holiday to Saint Marie?” Her disbelief was evident.

He frowned, “You said that you wanted a proper honeymoon. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, no! This is a wonderful idea,” She flicked through the glossy pages, pausing to smile somewhat gleefully at images of waterfalls and deserted stretches of white sand. “Oh it looks _perfect_! What made you pick Saint Marie?”

“Well I have a cousin there. I saw him in London a few months ago when he was escorting a prisoner back to the UK.” She raised her eyebrows at the phrase ‘escorting a prisoner’ and Martin explained, “He’s a police officer. Officially with The Met but they transferred him over there to run police force on the island. It’s a British Crown Protectorate you know.”

“Oh how lovely! Does he really like it there then?”

“Not really,” Martin told her shortly. “Should I book the holiday? I thought the Easter break might be appropriate.”

He turned and walked away, probably intending to boot up the computer to do just that, but Louisa was still a little concerned about his cousin’s attitude to the island. Checking the baby was still sleeping soundly, she chased after him, “Hang on Martin! What doesn’t he like about it?”

“Who?”

“Your cousin!”

“Richard?”

“Yes, if that is the name of your cousin who lives on Saint Marie,” God the man was frustrating.

“Well as I understand it it’s quite hot, and he doesn’t cope so well in the heat. Also he has quite a strong aversion to sand. He isn’t keen on the Caribbean diet, and says there are very few places he can get hold of a proper cup of tea. Does that answer your question?”

It did, and she was relieved, “Oh well that’s a shame for him. But I mean it doesn’t apply to us though? The whole point of going would be the sun, sea and beaches!”

“Also I’ve checked and he tells me the coffee is satisfactory,” Martin added, as if _that_ had actually been his deciding factor in suggesting Saint Marie as a location. Though if she was being honest, it wouldn’t have surprised Louisa if it was.

“Oh this is so exciting! I never took you for the kind who’d want to spend a week on the beach and by the pool though, Martin.”

“Well I’m not really.”

Now Louisa was frowning, “Well, I mean, what did you want to do then?”

“Oh don’t get me wrong,” Martin told her, in the tone that usually meant he was going to say something he thought would be pacifying, but normally just made her angry. “I’m perfectly happy for you and James Henry to spend as much time in the pool or on the beach as you like. In fact I think it’s time he did learn to get used to water. I can find other things to entertain myself.”

Louisa found that last statement a little suspicious, “Other things like what?”

“Well, see Richard again for example,” Martin told her, though Louisa still felt he was being a little evasive.

“Well of course Martin, I’m not saying you can’t spend time with your cousin. I’d love to meet him as well.” Louisa said this and waited, hoping Martin would admit whatever it was on his own. He said nothing, just continued to book the flights on the computer. “Were there any _other_ activities you’d also considered?”

“Well there is a clinic come research unit on the island I thought I might visit,” He said casually, or as casually as it was possible for Martin to say anything.

“Oh _Martin_! We’re going on honeymoon and you want to _work!_ ” She very nearly through her arms up in despair.

“It wouldn’t be work,” he protested. “It’s not like I’d be performing surgery or seeing patients, I’d just like to look at the facilities and talk to the medics and scientists working there. The results they are achieving are amazing given their limited resources. Richard said it’s the same across the whole island really, they are considered too small to be given the resources to build their own facilities, so everyone just adapts.”

Louisa sighed, knowing she was going to give in, “I suppose that _is_ fun to you.”

“Well, I would find it intellectually stimulating, yes.”

If she wanted to fight with him, she’d probably make a comment that he was implying she was too stupid to entertain him, but it wasn’t what he meant and she knew it. Besides, she was still pretty happy about getting to go to the Caribbean.  She was sure once they were there she would find ways to make sure he didn’t spend _too_ much time away from her. Plus this cousin of his might provide some babysitting services as well.

 

* * *

 

 

Much to her relief, James Henry had not cried that much on the plane. Yes he had whimpered for a good hour, but then settled and slept most of the trip – only waking to be fed. Louisa had had images of the baby screaming the entire 8 hours, other passengers huffing and muttering under their breath about parents who dared travel with small children. As soon as they stepped from the air conditioned airport, a blast of heat hit them. Martin paused to carefully position a sun hat on James’ head.

“Where is your hat?” he asked her.

“Still in the case,” Something she would have thought was obvious. She was hardly going to need it on the plane was she?

“You should stay covered up in the sun, especially near the equator, you might burn and that leads to an increased risk of skin cancer,” As he said this, he put his own hat on. Though Louisa knew everything he said was true, and rather serious, she still couldn’t help but snort with laughter at the sight of him. The hat he had chosen might be practical, but was not exactly flattering.

“There is nothing funny about a melanoma, Louisa!”

“Of course not Martin, but I’m sure I’ll be fine into we get to the hotel.”

And they were. A rather expensive taxi took them to the hotel, and Martin complained about the price all the way up to the room. Louisa let him continue his rant whilst she explored the suite. When she got out on to the balcony, she let out a little squeal.

Martin came running out, “What is it? Snake? Spider?”

“No! We have our own hot tub!” She said, pointing delightedly, bouncing James on her hip to keep him calm.

“Oh right, yes, I thought you might like that. Get your hat, we should go let Richard know we are here.”

 

* * *

 

 

To her surprise, Louisa found that they were outside the police station. Martin had half dragged her through the market, despite her protests, some of the things on sale had been rather pretty. He had rather firmly informed her that they were largely tat and prices would be massively inflated as they were obviously tourists, and she would be much better shopping at the hotel gift shop where a bit of quality was guaranteed. She thought he was being unreasonable, and resolved to return to the market on one of the days he was ‘entertaining himself’.

“Could your cousin not get any time off work?” Louisa asked, unsure it was entirely appropriate for them to just drop in on the Detective Inspector in the middle of his shift.

“I don’t know I didn’t ask him,” Martin started to bound up the steps, despite the heat.

“Oh I suppose it would be rude to ask him to take time off just for us,” As Louisa said this though, she had a terrible feeling. “Martin, you _did_ tell him we were coming didn’t you?”

As she followed her husband through the door, her worst fears were confirmed when a man squinting at a picture on a whiteboard turned around at their entrance and exclaimed in surprise, “Martin?”


	2. Put at a Disadvantage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did think there would be a chance I would be writing this story just for me. It’s nice to see some other people are fans of both shows, thanks for your encouragement. Also this chapter is twice as long as I intended, but hopefully nobody will have complaints.

Richard was surprised, there was no denying that. When he had seen Martin on the trip back to London, prisoner in tow, they had talked about Saint Marie. Martin had seemed quite interested in the way things were run, and Richard had made the normally vague offers about acting as a tour guide if he was ever in the area. Knowing Martin was getting married in a few weeks, he was willing to admit it probably would make a nice honeymoon destination. His cousin had called him a few weeks back to enquire as to what the coffee was like on island, much to Richard’s bemusement, and then informed him he was thinking about coming over after all. When Richard failed to hear anything else on the subject, he had assumed it was just a passing fancy that had taken hold of the man and not a serious intention after all. Well, since Martin was now standing in front of him, Richard knew himself to be wrong on that front.

Martin seemed to have realised his mistake, “Right, yes, I suppose I should have informed you of the dates we were coming. These were the most convenient for us, so we would have come no matter what your availability.” Behind his back Camille raised both her eyebrows. She was the only other person in the station currently, and probably was not sure what was going on.

A really rather pretty woman, carrying a child, stepped round from behind Martin and added, “Though it would wonderful if you did have some time to see us, Richard,” She added, giving Martin the sort of meaningful look he sometimes received from Camille as a hint he might have cocked things up.

“Of course, yes,” Martin said quickly. The addition wasn’t actually necessary – Richard was perfectly used to his cousin. If Martin hadn’t wanted to see him whilst on Saint Marie he would not have turned up at the station. The woman Richard presumed was Martin’s new wife elbowed him, “Right, sorry, where are my manners? Richard this is my wife Louisa, and my son James Henry.”

Richard shook Louisa’s hands, and then tried to look at interested in the child, “Right, yes, he’s very cute.”

“Thank you. I suppose he would be your first cousin once removed,” Louisa said conversationally, jiggling the baby who was becoming a bit restless. Probably the heat, poor thing, there Richard could sympathise. A moment later the child spotted something over his mother’s shoulder that made him giggle happily, and Richard realised Camille was smiling and waving at the child from behind her desk. Louisa turned around to locate the source of the baby’s amusement, and started a little to find Camille sitting at her desk. “Oh I’m sorry, look at us just bursting in here in the middle of the day! We’re probably disturbing your work.”

“It’s fine, honestly,” Camille stood and came around the desk. “Camille Bordey,” She said, offering a hand to Louisa. “Your son is very beautiful. And _such_ a cute laugh as well.”

“Oh thank you,” Louisa said, smiling, and shifting the baby so Camille could play with him. Richard couldn’t help but notice the way Louisa thanked Camille seemed a lot more sincere, mind Camille’s compliment was also a lot more sincere than his was. He never knew what to say about babies, they all looked relatively cute to him.

“You’re here on your honeymoon?” Camille enquired, when Louisa nodded in confirmation, she smiled wickedly. Richard had a feeling he knew what was coming. “Oh you should get Richard to do some babysitting. One of the officers has a daughter and Richard has actually gotten quite good at it.” Richard gave Camille a slightly horrified look, as the truth was that whenever Rosie had begun to cry during his babysitting stints, he panicked terribly and called Camille for help. It had gotten to the point where she just turned up automatically to help at the beginning of the evening. “I can help him as well,” Camille added, and Richard knew that was more for his benefit than Louisa’s.

Before Louisa could reply, Martin rounded on Richard and asked him, “Does your secretary have much experience in child care?”

The next moment defined tense silence. Martin was staring at him, expecting an answer, but Richard had frozen because he was waiting for Camille to explode. He knew there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Louisa seemed to have realised that her husband had made a mistake, as she cringed.

“Excuse me,” Camille said, probably only not shouting out of deference to the presence of the baby. “I am not a secretary, I am a _Detective Sergeant_.”

Martin raised an eyebrow at her response, turned back and told Richard, “She doesn’t look like a Detective Sergeant.”

Richard realised this was probably a reference to the shorts and strappy top affair Camille was wearing as opposed to anything else, and hastened to make it clear that was what Martin meant before any Actual Bodily Harm occurred, “Dress regulations are not the same as at The Met.” It was all he could manage, and unfortunately it didn’t seem to satisfy Martin.

“Then why are you still wearing a suit?”

Now this was an answer Richard could say, Blue Peter style, he had prepared early. Largely in response to nagging by Camille or her mother. “Because, as a middle aged pale Englishman, nobody would take me seriously if I was dressed as you are now, would they? I’d look like a tourist.” His answer was made primly, and this time accepted by Martin. If only Camille and Catherine would respond to logic with acceptance, instead of just taking it as a challenge to push him more. That last thought reminded Richard his DS was still simmering over the secretary comment. She now used the pause in conversation to remind Martin as well.

“Even if I _was_ a secretary, I would be perfectly able to answer the question myself you know! There was no reason to ask Richard,” She was still remarkably restrained. Though she had brought out the finger to point emphatically as she spoke.

“I don’t know you. You intimated that you might look after my child, and I simply wished to ascertain from somebody I trust that you were capable of that task.”

Richard was impressed that both Louisa and Camille had identical looks of disbelief on their faces, and that despite being the recipient of these looks, Martin remained resolute in his belief he was right.

“Though your _reasons_ for asking the question are, fundamentally, acceptable – the issue was more with the _way_ you asked it,” Now Camille had taken on the tone of an exasperated parent trying to explain right from wrong to a child. “You could have made the same enquiry when I wasn’t standing _right here._ ”

Martin looked like he was about to argue his point, but much to Richard’s relief Louisa quickly spoke over the top of him, “Yes, he could have, and he’s very sorry, _aren’t you Martin?”_ This time, Martin was not immune to his wife’s hard stare, and nodded mutely. “And I am sorry as well, Camille. I think James’ might be a little hungry, you couldn’t point me in the direction of somewhere I could buy him a banana or something similar?”

“Of course. In fact we aren’t so busy right now, why don’t I take you down to the market myself.” Camille grabbed her bag, glaring at Richard on the way out. He thought it was a little unfair she was blaming him for his cousin’s behaviour. Was he supposed to have defended her? She probably _had_ expected it knowing her. And then, if he’d gone about doing so, she probably would currently be mad at him for assuming she wasn’t able to defend her own honour.

“She seems a bit emotional,” Martin said, thankfully when Camille was out of ear shot.

Richard waved a hand in dismissal, “Oh that is _nothing_ , and you should hear some of the things she has said to me.”

Martin frowned again, “Is there a chance she has some sort of mood disorder? I could assess her if you like.”

Richard was about to reply in the negative, then realised perhaps he didn’t have enough experience with women to make that judgement. Mind Dwayne had plenty of experience, and he’d never said anything. “I don’t think that will be necessary. And in answer you your earlier question she actually is very good with young children. If you did want a babysitter for an evening I’m sure the two of us could manage between us.”

“I’ll consider it. Now, about that tropical diseases clinic you mentioned…”

 

* * *

 

 

You didn’t have to be in Louisa’s presence long to realise what a warm, loving and open person she was, Camille concluded. In fact in every way she seemed to be the complete opposite of the man she had married.

“So Martin and Richard are first cousins then?” Camille asked, as she directed Louisa away from the plantain she was examining towards bananas that were likely to be more to a baby’s tastes.

“Yes, Martin said their Mothers are sisters. Apparently they were at school together, though a couple of years apart. Also Martin would spend a week of the Easter holidays staying with Richard’s family.” Well if they went to the same school that might explain things. Either that or the mannerisms the two men had in common were actually genetic.  It was funny though, Camille knew to a certain degree she had trained Richard, but she felt certain he had never been _that_ rude. Mind she could remember him interrupting her, dismissing her, and generally being a bit of an ass. Perhaps her recollections were more rosily coloured now because of…well, other things.

Banana successfully purchased, they headed back to the station. Louisa paused on the veranda to look down on the market, “Oh it looks lovely, like the real Caribbean! Martin wouldn’t let me have a proper look earlier, said all of the stallholders were just waiting for an opportunity to take advantage of me.”

“Well, prices can be slightly inflated by vendors for tourists, but they are pretty open to a little haggling. I mean, it is the weekend tomorrow, if you want I could take you around? I can make sure you get some bargains! A lot of the stallholders you know, they are making the items they sell themselves or as part of co-operatives. If you are looking for some gifts to bring back that are truly representative of the island, it’s the place to go.”

“Well thank you Camille, James Henry and I would like that very much. If Martin disapproves he can just go do something else, if he hasn’t already arranged just that.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m going to go shopping at the market tomorrow,” Louisa told Martin as she came back in, in a tone that implied it was not a decision Martin should argue with her about. Naturally, Martin ignored this entirely.

“Louisa, I thought we had been through this, the sort of people running those stalls are just waiting to take advantage of you. If you buy anything from them, it will be at grossly inflated prices and will probably fall to pieces before we even get it home.”

Richard felt that on this occasion, Martin, “Actually Louisa he’s right. They don’t exactly have high quality standards.”

Unfortunately, this statement attracted the wrath of Camille, “Just because the people on this island don’t have some big factory with, with _quality control managers_ going over every inch of the products they make doesn’t mean that those things aren’t _worth_ buying. You’re talking about people’s entire livelihoods! Of course they care about what they make.”

“Oh please I can name half a dozen sellers I’ve had complaints made against in the past few months!”

“Yes, and if you bothered to think about it, you could think of twice the number of honest people just trying to make a living! Besides, I am going to go with Louisa, so I’m hardly going to let her get hoodwinked, am I?” Richard thought it was a little unfair that Camille hadn’t mentioned that in the first place. Naturally Louisa would be fine with Camille in tow, in fact given the popularity of the detective amongst the islands residents she’d probably get a fair few bargains.

“Right, good, Camille will look after her,” Richard mumbled to Martin, who didn’t look entirely convinced.

“Well then, it’s good you have other activities planned for tomorrow as Richard and I are going to visit the tropical diseases clinic I told you about.”

“Are you interested in tropical medicine?” Camille asked politely.

“Not any more than other area of medicine. Richard mentioned the work the clinic was trying to do to me when he was in London, and the results they were managing to achieve despite their limited resources. He hoped I could point him in the direction of organisations that might be able to provide more funding. I did a little research into the clinic myself and was suitably impressed. If my impressions are confirmed on the visit tomorrow, I shall recommend that the RCS and RCGP make the organisation a recipient of the funds they give out each year to medical charities.” Camille didn’t respond immediately, and Richard realised Martin was studying her expression carefully. “You look quite conflicted, Sergeant Bordey.”

She did actually, now Martin mentioned it. Camille seemed to shake herself mentally before responding, “Yeah well, I’m still mad at him for the whole market sellers thing, but I also think it’s sweet he has tried to help the free clinic. Those are two emotions that aren’t easy to resolve.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean there,” Louisa told her.

“Do you often find your mood or emotions shift rapidly?” Martin asked her.

Camille’s face screwed up in confusion, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Oh God, this entire situation was giving Richard a headache, he should have known Camille and Martin would never get on. He rubbed his forehead in a vague attempt to sooth the pain, and Martin did not miss the action.

“Are you still suffering from headaches, Richard?”

“Yes,” he said, with a resigned sigh.

Martin pulled a pen light from his pocket and shone it in Richard’s eye, “Ow! Do you really think that is going to help the headache?”

“Well you know what the diagnosis is, Richard, very unlikely to have changed since I saw you last. Have you consulted anybody here about it?”

“No, I know! I should have.”

“Richard, the sooner you accept it, the better. Things could be made so much more comfortable for you.” Martin’s tone gave away his impatience.

“Don’t suppose you have an opinion on how much longer I might have?”

“To be frank I think it’s only your sheer stubbornness that has gotten you this far. Honestly, it happens to everyone eventually Richard, ok maybe it’s a bit earlier in your case.”

“Oh my God!” Camille cried out, and Richard looked at her in alarm when he realised she was crying. Louisa had placed a comforting arm around her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think you’d be that interested,” Richard told her perplexed. “In fact I was more worried you’d make fun of me.”

“Why would I do that?” She continued to weep, with Louisa doing her best to comfort her.

“Martin, how could be so, so, brusque about it!” Louisa snapped suddenly. “You could try to be a bit more consoling!”

“Excuse me but it’s his own vanity that means he is still suffering. If he just sucked it up, accepted the fact he was aging, and got the glasses he wouldn’t still be having headaches!” Martin exploded.

Camille somehow ceased crying instantly and looked up sharply, “Glasses? You have headaches because you need glasses?”

“Yes,” Richard said slowly, trying to figure out what was going on.

“You’re not dying?”

Oh. _Oh._ Now he came to think of it he supposed it did sound more drastic that he intended, “No, not as far as I know.”

Camille, in a move that took him entirely by surprise, launched herself across the room and threw her arms around him. Squeezing him tightly and releasing him before he could even decide how to respond, she pulled back and then punched him, hard, on the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” He protested, rubbing the sore muscle.

“For making me think you were dying!”

“It’s not my fault you misinterpreted what Martin said,” He was really struggling to cope with her rapid change in emotions.

“Yes it is, if you had gotten the glasses than there would have been no conversation for me to misinterpret!”

Richard was desperately trying to think of a way to avoid any further abuse, both physical or verbal, when Martin asked seriously, “Are you sure you don’t want me to assess her for a mood disorder?”


	3. Losing the Advantage

Camille watched Louisa hurry her husband out of the door, before he could mess things up further. She made sure she smiled warmly at the woman though before she left, so she knew that there were no issues between the two of them. Camille might want to strangle the husband, but she would still be happy go shopping with the wife tomorrow. Speaking of strangling people, she turned her attention back to her boss. If he wanted evidence that her mood was stable, she would be quite happy to remain angry at him for the foreseeable future.

“You discussed the fact I might have some sort of mood disorder with your cousin?” She snapped, there was no longer a need for her to moderate the volume of her accusation either, now the baby was gone.

Richard looked startled that she would be angry about it, and then as these things normally played out, became angry himself, “No, Martin suggested it and I dismissed it. I hardly think you can blame me for his conclusions, in fact given how, how volatile you’ve been this afternoon _I_ don’t blame him for coming to that conclusion either!”

“Oh I’m volatile, am I? I suppose you English think anybody who shows a little emotion is _volatile._ Well, excuse me for being annoyed when I’m insulted and for daring to be upset when I thought you were dying! I suppose it was ridiculous to then be relieved when it turns out you aren’t!” Camille was aware that she was gesticulating like a mad woman, as well as shouting, but she was too angry to care about what she might look like. “I suppose if you found out I was dying you’d shrug, say ‘oh bad luck’ and start filling out the paperwork to requisition my replacement.”

“NO!” The force of the one word almost caused Camille to take half a step back, and he surprised her further by taking a full step towards her, pulling the hand she’d been using to point at him with down and out of the way. “You know just because I don’t go about participating in group hugs and sharing my feelings doesn’t mean I don’t have them you know! _Of course_ I would care if you were dying. If something happened…I don’t know…I wouldn’t…”

He trailed off, gaze dropping to the floor but not moving away from her, not yet. Camille was breathing hard, physical symptoms of her anger remaining even though the emotion had drained away instantly at his words. His inability to finish his sentences actually said a lot, and touched her more deeply than she could quantify. She realised his fingers were still wrapped around her wrist, was certain he’d feel the racing of her pulse, that all _her_ emotions were being given away in this moment.

“Of course you would,” she told him gently, though to her own ear her voice trembled slightly. “I’m sorry about what I said.”

He looked up, catching her eye. “I’m sorry I called you volatile,” he said quietly. She didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked down to her lips momentarily, or how he continued he make no effort to change the closeness of their proximity. She leaned in a little, maintaining eye contact, sure not even he could misinterpret the signals she was giving out. He gave a little sigh, not one of frustration or sadness – one that sounded more like he’d decided to just give in - hopefully to her. She gave a small smile, and he lifted the hand he wasn’t using to grip her wrist to hesitantly touch her face.

“Richard, we didn’t agree what time you were picking me up.” Richard moved back, letting go of her wrist like he’d been burnt and turning to face his cousin. The cousin for whom strangling was now too kind a fate.

“For God’s sake, don’t you knock?” She snapped, frustrated beyond belief.

“This being a police station, open to members of the public, I didn’t think it was necessary,” Martin said this in the same maddening tone he’d used to explain his reasons for questioning her child caring abilities. Camille was desperate to come up with a response, but had nothing.

“Of course it’s not necessary to knock,” Richard told him, and though Camille was annoyed at Richard agreeing with Martin (even if he was right) she was also grateful she was no longer subject to the doctor’s keen gaze. “How about nine o’clock from your hotel? Do you have a hire car? It is on the other side of the island.” Camille examined Richard’s face as he spoke, trying to see some clue that told of his intentions of a few moments before, but he had closed off – was back to the same old Richard, the man who didn’t go about sharing his emotions.

“I’m sure the hotel can arrange one. I’ll see you tomorrow, Richard. Good day, Detective Sergeant.”

“Richard?” Camille breathed, as soon as Martin was out of the door. She was desperate to regain the intimacy of the moment before his damned cousin barged his way back into the station.

“I have to call Carlton Reynolds,” He said quickly, causing Camille to blink in surprise.

“I’m sorry?”

“Carlton, at the clinic,” he said, hurrying around his desk. “I should warn him Martin is coming. Don’t want us to turn up out of the blue and find them playing darts in the lab again! That’s not going to give the right impression, is it? Not that I’m saying people don’t deserve a break every now and then.” He was rambling, and Camille knew there was no point in trying to reign him in, he was determined to ignore what had almost happened.

“Right, yeah, of course,” She agreed, and thought she caught a flicker of relief in his expression. Before he picked up the phone, she made one last ditch attempt to salvage the situation. If he wouldn’t talk about it now, maybe he would in another setting. One with lots of alcohol, “Um, Dwayne and Fidel will be back from patrol soon and then it’ll be home time. Do you want to come out for a cup of tea or beer?” Camille felt almost shy asking, even though she’d done it a hundred times.

The silence that followed was telling, and he didn’t look at her when he eventually replied, “No, I um, I’ve got some paperwork I should have done but didn’t because I was speaking to Martin. I better get on with that. You go ahead though, have a nice evening.”

“Okay,” She said, doing everything in her power to mask her disappointment. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually hate myself a little bit. This was supposed to be something entirely different when I started it (which will now be in the next chapter) and instead this appeared!


	4. The Advantages and Disadvantages of the Opposite Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My laptop died and we were parted for ever such a long time. Meanwhile I have been typing up fic on a netbook I couldn’t connect to the internet – hence long silence followed by many updates.

When Richard arrived at the hotel, Louisa was downstairs in the restaurant with the baby. She was clearly taking her time over breakfast. She spotted him through the massive glass doors, and waved him over enthusiastically. Richard went over, mentally reviewing the ‘small talk’ skills he had been forced to learn in order to deal with Camille. He sincerely hoped she didn’t detain him too long, he and Martin did have a schedule to stick to.

“Richard, sit down, have a cup of tea! Martin went upstairs to do some background reading but I’m sure he’ll be down soon,” Louisa greeted him warmly.

“No, thank you,” Louisa looked a little surprised by his response, so he decided to elaborate. “I’ve had the tea here before, it’s disgusting.”

“Oh,” She said, frowning at her cup. “It tastes fine to me.”

“I’m quite…particular… about tea,” He added, looking over his shoulder. He had arrived 5 minutes early, no doubt Martin would be down in a minute – he was normally a stickler for time keeping. When he looked back at Louisa, she was staring at him, and he realised he was being rude and ignoring her. Before he could speak, she seemed to realise she had been caught staring.

“Oh, sorry, I’ve just realised how much you look like somebody I know!”

 She didn’t elaborate, and Richard decided not to ask, instead he went for a more generic topic of conversation, “So how do you like Saint Marie so far?”

“Oh it’s so beautiful! You’re so lucky to live here!”

“Yes,” he agreed, vaguely. “Apart from the heat. And the bugs, God so many bugs, and the snakes. Also the lack of decent tea. Oh and sand!” She was looking at him with both eyebrows raised.

“Do you miss England? I mean, it must be hard, so far from home,” Louisa seemed genuinely concerned, which confused Richard, as she didn’t actually know him.

“Its fine,” Richard said, even though he knew it was an outright lie. There were hundreds of things he missed about UK, but he also knew if he went back now he would miss a similar number of things about life on Saint Marie. It was really making him rather conflicted. “Do you think Martin will be here soon?”

“Yes, I’m here,” came his cousin’s voice from behind him.

Richard tried not to look relieved Martin had arrived, he was worried Louisa may have continued her probing.

“Martin, doesn’t Richard look like Stewart?” Louisa asked brightly.

Richard suddenly found himself under Martin’s scrutiny, and felt a little uncomfortable, “Yes, I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. The resemblance is really quite remarkable.”

“Who’s Stewart?” Richard asked, now the name had been mentioned he might as well know a little more about his apparent doppelganger.

“He’s a ranger on Bodmin Moor who suffers from psychiatric problems and believes he lives with a 6ft red squirrel named Anthony,” Martin explained concisely.

“But he’s _very_ nice,” Louisa added quickly.

“I’m sure,” Richard told her. “But you’ll excuse me if I don’t necessarily take the comparison as a compliment.”

Martin was brisk in his goodbye to Louisa, but she stood up and pulled him back to kiss him on the cheek, “Have a good day!”

 

* * *

 

 

Camille picked up Louisa and her gorgeous baby from the hotel. They took a slow walk down to the market, baby dozing in the pram, and chatted amiably about many different things. Camille could tell Louisa really wanted to say something but was holding back, but eventually she did spit it out.

“Listen, Camille, I’m sorry about what Martin said…” She began, but Camille didn’t let her stumble on awkwardly, and quickly interrupted.

“Oh don’t worry about it! He’s not dissimilar to Richard in that way, and I’m used to him so…”

“I blame the school they went to!” Louisa said. “But Martin is improving, I’m sure he is. Though some of the other people in our village like to tell me it’s just my imagination.”

Camille considered what Louisa had said carefully, and then asked as casually as possible, “Do you think you’ve changed him them?”

Louisa frowned briefly, considering the (now Camille thought about it) rather personal question. Luckily she didn’t take offense, eventually answering, “Well it’s hard to tell. He certainly _does_ things he wouldn’t now because of me – but he doesn’t _enjoy_ them. He might come along to the school concert to show his support, but you know he is desperate to get home and finish reading the latest issue of _The Lancet_.”

“Oh God Richard is the same. He has to be practically ordered to attend the social events on the island, and then when he is there he mutters under his breath and complains to me all the time. Sometimes I think the only emotion he knows how to express properly is annoyance,” Camille told Louisa in the tone of voice women reserve for talking about the foibles of the opposite sex. But then she felt a little guilty at the criticism, because she thought she understood the reasons why he acted so, and hurriedly added, “Really it’s because he is _very_ dedicated to his job and he is the best detective I have ever met.”

“Oh yes, annoyed is definitely Martin’s default mood as well, especially if anything disturbs his work,” Louisa agreed amicably. “He is an amazing doctor, but there used to be times I thought the only thing he cared about was his job.”

“Yes!” Said Camille, who felt like she’d _finally_ found somebody who understood. “And then they go and do something that proves otherwise, and completely surprise you.”

“It was like that with this honeymoon actually. I _knew_ Martin wouldn’t want to go on one so I didn’t even bother to ask even though I obviously quite liked the idea. Then eventually it all came out that I would have wanted to go, and he completely blindsided me by suggesting Saint Marie. Ok, so he did want to visit this clinic as well but _still.”_

“Well that’s good, him doing something for you spontaneously. I bet you had to make most of the first moves.” Camille realised she had known this woman for less than 24 hours, but if she had access to an apparent expert on how to handle emotionally repressed workaholic Englishmen, she was going to take full advantage of it.

“You know, he is actually surprisingly good at expressing his emotions at times. He certainly tells me he loves me, and you know he _even_ writes poetry.”

Louisa paused to allow Camille to look suitably surprised, and she was, she might have only met the man once but “Dr Martin Ellingham” and “poet” did not seem like they belonged in a sentence together.  Actually, Camille found that Louisa’s last statement had made her a little despondent. Until yesterday, Richard had never given her any real clear indications of his emotions – those times that he had opened up were hard fought for. And here was Louisa, with her husband raised for all purposes to be similarly reserved as Richard, and the woman was perfectly confident in her husband’s feelings for her.

“Plus, you know,” Louisa started in a conspiratorial whisper. “He is unquestionably passionate at the right times, if you understand me.”

When Camille didn’t respond, Louisa mistook her silence for shock, and began to apologise profusely, “Sorry, I’ve made you uncomfortable haven’t I? I thought because you were French you’d be okay with mentions of sex and things but that is a stereotype and I should not have made that assumption and...”

Camille laughed, which cut Louisa off mid-flow. “No, you haven’t made me uncomfortable, I’m sorry my mind was just elsewhere.”

Louisa seemed to be carefully examining Camille’s face, and eventually hesitantly asked, “Is it you and Richard? Are you not having an easy time of it? Because I can sympathise there. Maybe if you just told him outright that he doesn’t tell you enough that he loves you enough it will be enough to get him to do so. Men like Richard and Martin need direct instructions.”

“Maybe your right,” Said Camille, then started as she realised what she had just agreed with. “I mean, um, no, Richard and I aren’t together. Not at all, you’re mistaken.”

“Oh,” said Louisa, nodding her head like she understood. “I suppose that sort of thing wouldn’t be allowed. Well it’s ok, in the unlikely event anybody asks I will tell them what you just told me.” Clearly Louisa had thought Camille’s denial was because she wanted to keep her relationship with her boss quiet, rather than the fact that it didn’t actually exist.

“No, really, we aren’t in a relationship, secret or otherwise.”

“Oh!” This time it was an expression of surprising, rather than understanding. “Really? I have to say I’m a little surprised. Yesterday when you were so upset...but then of course why wouldn’t you be upset even if it was a colleague or friend you thought was dying. But then, well, just now I thought the way you were phrasing your questions – it was a bit like you were fishing for advice.”

Camille wasn’t sure how to respond to this, and so she just frowned briefly and gave a shrug to try to indicate Louisa must have been mistaken. She was impressed by Louisa’s level of perception, she had seen right through Camille. Louisa must have also been confident in her own intuition, as she continued to stare down Camille.

“Oh is it _that_ obvious,” Camille very nearly wailed.

Louisa gave her a placating smile, “Perhaps only to those of us who have been there, done that.”

They had reached the market at last, and Camille mentally shook herself before saying, “Well come on now, we aren’t here to talk about my love life or lack thereof, we are here to shop!”

Louisa wisely understood that for now, the topic was closed.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard thought that it had gone quite well at the clinic. Martin wasn’t the easiest person to read, but the lack of complaining was a good sign. As they began to drive back to Martin’s hotel, Richard fished around for something to say.

“Louisa seems very nice,” was all he could come up with. They’d covered weather during the drive over that morning.

“Yes, she is a very agreeable person,” Martin responded. Well, that was that line of conversation over.

“And is James Henry progressing as expected?”

“His development falls within normal parameters, yes,” There was a pause, but before Richard could ask anything else Martin added, “It is unusual for you to be so desirous of small talk, Richard.”

For a moment, Richard was confused, and then it hit him. He was sharing a car with Martin. “Christ! Sorry, yes, Camille made me promise to be more sociable in the car – she enjoys talking. She enjoys talking _a lot_. I suppose I am getting into a habit of it now.” He paused, realised that had sounded a little more like a criticism than he intended – though he wished sometimes they could just travel to work quietly, or at least just talk about work, Camille had in some ways done him a favour. “Mind round here ‘being social’ is considered necessary as a police officer, so I suppose her forcing me to be so is actually a good thing.”

“She certainly seems...lively,” Martin had deliberately searched about for a more polite term than he probably intended on using – Richard thought that perhaps Louisa was having a positive effect on him in terms of sociability as well. “I must confess I am a little surprised by your relationship. She doesn’t really seem like your type at all.”

“We’re not in a relationship!” Richard quickly denied, the last thing he needed was Martin implying otherwise.

“Richard, may I remind you that it is in fact _you_ who need glasses, and not me. I realise the Caribbean may be more relaxed, but I don’t believe when I interrupted you yesterday what I disturbed was normal behaviour between police colleagues.”

Not for the first time in his life, Richard wished there was a way to turn off the blushing mechanism. Once, when he had seen Martin during a trip home from University, the soon to be qualified doctor had explained there was an operation to do just that. At the time, Richard had felt the mild embarrassment he felt when talking to the opposite sex was not worth the risks of the operating table – and one girl had told him she actually thought it was quite cute. Perhaps it was in his early twenties, but now he was in his forties Richard was wishing he had arranged for the operation.

“Now,” he started, bring out the Detective Inspector voice. “That was the first time anything of that nature had occurred, and it shouldn’t of. It was unprofessional and I shouldn’t have allowed it to go as far as I did. As you pointed out Camille was quite emotional yesterday and sometimes these things can rub off on you. So, there is no relationship.”

“Right,” Martin said, never taking his eyes off the road. “Good.”

Right, so that conversation was over...hang on, “What do you mean, ‘good’?”

“I don’t mean anything by it,” Martin lied quickly, and badly. Richard waited him out, and eventually he continued, “Well, basing my judgement solely on my observations of Detective Sergeant Bordey yesterday, I feel that not only would a relationship be inappropriate between the two of you because of your working relationship – it would also be extremely unlikely to work out.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You just made it abundantly clear that no relationship exists and you have no intention of one developing, so why does it matter?”

“Well just answer it hypothetically,” Richard said impatiently. They were pulling up outside the hotel and he found himself truly interested in the answer.

“You’re very different people. You are somewhat reserved; pursue academic interests and generally are a steady person. She appears to be a lot more volatile, sociable and apparently enjoys the idea of shopping at the market at the weekend which I am positive is _not_ your idea of a good time,” Martin explained succinctly.

Richard considered what Martin had said as he expertly reverse bay parked. As they got out of the car Richard stated, “Just because Camille actually enjoys the company of other people doesn’t mean she isn’t smart, she is very smart. And she really gets human psychology, much better at it than me, she’s an excellent police officer.” Richard was a little surprised at how vehemently he found himself defending Camille. Martin hadn’t actually said anything that wasn’t true; it’s just Richard felt like he didn’t have the whole picture. “And furthermore, from _my_ observations of Louisa she is warm and sociable and is also shopping at the market on a Saturday. She is also very much not your type as far as I can see, nothing like your previous girlfriends.”

“Yes, you are correct.”

Richard was surprised that Martin made no defence. Then a rather depressing though hit him, “Oh God, you aren’t just together because of the baby are you? Because I know that was a bit of an accident...”

“No,” Martin interrupted him firmly. “I do love her.” Richard realised Martin was looking at somebody behind him when he said this, and he sighed.

“She’s standing behind me isn’t she?”

“Yes,” Martin replied simply.

Richard took a calming breath and turned to apologise. The apology stuck in his throat when he found both Camille and Louisa glaring at him, arms crossed. It was a truly terrifying sight.

“How could you ask such a thing?” Louisa cried, clearly upset.

Before Richard could apologise, Martin stepped in to save him. Or at least that is what Richard thought was his intention, but he instead said something that just made the situation worse. “Louisa his question was quite logical given what we had been discussing. Besides, he is hardly the first person to have contemplated that as a possibility.”

“Did you tell him James Henry was an accident?” Louisa turned her anger towards Martin.

“Well that is technically true.”

“He wasn’t an _accident_ , he was... he was a...”

“Surprise?” Camille supplied helpfully.

“Yes! Thank you Camille, he was a surprise.” Louisa cried.

“Well I will concede that is a more delicate way to put it.” If Martin thought this statement would pacify Louisa he was sadly mistaken. She let out a huff of indignation and rattled off into the hotel, baby, pram and many shopping bags in tow. Martin shot Richard a brief look, which he accepted as a goodbye for now, and hurried after his wife. When Martin tried to take one of the many items she was struggling with, Louisa refused his help. Well, that was one honeymoon that wasn’t getting off to the best start.

When Richard turned away from the scene, he realised that because of good old female solidarity, he still had to face the fury of Camille. Before she could speak, he cut her off, “Oh don’t you start. Five minutes earlier and she would have heard me calling her warm, sociable and pleasant person.” Though Camille might have also heard what he said about her, and he wasn’t sure _that_ wouldn’t have been worse. “Just my luck you turn up when I’m asking an awkward question.”

“ _Why_ would you even ask such a thing, Richard?” Camille sighed. He was always Richard when he was in trouble with her.

“Because of...well before we were...the conversation we were having...” There was no explanation he could give her that wouldn’t lead to much embarrassment on his part, so he went for stern instead. “Look, I had my reasons! I will find a way to apologise and make it up to her.”

“ _You_ are going to find a way to make it up to her?” Camille asked disbelievingly, she clearly doubted his skills with women. Quite rightly as well, but Richard still felt indignation at the implication.

“Yes, Yes I will,” He said firmly. He shot a subtle glance at her in an attempt to gage her current mood. She seemed much calmer, so he hesitantly added, “Don’t suppose you’ve got any ideas?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don’t know, Ben Miller did play a character in a couple of episodes of Doc Martin. His name was in fact Stewart and he did believe he lived with a 6ft red squirrel named Anthony. I wanted to add to the conversation a bit where Martin is so impressed by the resemblance he asks Richard if his father ever spent any time in Cornwall, but I couldn’t make it work.


	5. Overcoming Disadvantages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Splitting the chapter, otherwise it would have been MASSIVE and not done for ages.

Camille’s only suggestion had been grovelling, which Richard hadn’t thought exactly useful. However on Monday morning he came up with an idea all by himself. Every week, for the last eight weeks, Richard received a phone call from somebody who could only be described as a happy customer. The teenage daughter of the owner of one of the more exclusive restaurants on Saint Marie had, two months prior, decided to run away from home. The parents, M. and Mm. Boucher, were very distressed, but it hadn’t exactly taken Richard long to guess the girl’s password, check her emails and locate her hiding out with her slightly older boyfriend on the other side of the island. The girl’s parents seemed to think he had performed some sort of miracle by the safe return of their child, and had offered him a table whatever night he wished at their restaurant. Camille had lectured him on how the place was generally booked up months in advance, the food wasn’t exclusively French and since he would be paying the meal it wasn’t accepting a hand out. If she thought he was unwilling to accept the offer because of morals she was wrong, he just didn’t have any reason to go.

After the initial turn down of the offer, M. Boucher had called every Monday to offer him a table that week. He kept hinting that Richard must have some woman he’d like to take out, and that his restaurant was the perfect romantic location to do so. Richard had no idea where he got this idea from. He really wished the blasted man would stop calling him at work, Fidel and Dwayne seemed to find the entire situation highly amusing. They watched him carefully every week, and for some reason Fidel always looked a little disappointed and Dwayne smug when he turned down the offer. At least Camille ignored it and didn’t tease him about, which was actually a little out of character now he thought about it.

So when it was Monday morning, and Richard heard the ring of the phone followed by Fidel’s polite, “Sir, it is M. Boucher for you”, instead of the normal feeling of dread Richard was hit by sudden inspiration.

“M. Boucher, how are you?” He asked politely. He wished he hadn’t when he was then treated to five minutes of M. Boucher lamenting about not being able to source any quality oysters recently.

“Can I tempt you with a table this week, Detective Inspector Poole?”

“Actually, yes.” This was met by a shocked silence. Also shocked looks from all three of his fellow officers. Fidel then looked delighted and Dwayne resigned, reaching pocket for his wallet.

“Excellent! What night can I book you in for?”

“Actually it wouldn’t specifically be _me,_ ” Richard explained. He had to try and keep the annoyance tone normal as he watched Dwayne happily replace his wallet and realised that he and Fidel must have some sort of wager on concerning Richard’s acceptance of the offer. He would have to have words with them later. “You see, I really appreciate the offer, and my cousin and his new wife are here on honeymoon and I thought it would be so nice for them, uh, you know, and hoped you wouldn’t mind if I, uh, transferred the offer?”

“Oh Inspector Poole, you are a nice man I think? You put your cousin before yourself. Of course they shall have a table! And because you are so nice, I will still let you have a table whenever you like! You have your cousin call me, yes?” M. Boucher positively gushed. Richard confirmed he would do just that and rang off.

“You got your cousin and Louisa a table at Boucher’s?” Camille asked curiously, but then didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “You know I think that might actually work.”

He shot her a smug little smile. He couldn’t help it, if it did work, he had come up with it all by himself!

“Shame you lost the offer of a table yourself though,” Camille said this casually, though he did notice that Fidel and Dwayne gave a little smirk in response to her comment.

“Yeah, unfortunately that is not the case. Seems I will still be receiving my delightful weekly phone calls,” he said with a sigh.

“You should be grateful you have the chance!” She berated him. “I’ve always wanted to eat there.”

Several thoughts immediately jumped into his head. First off, was she trying to give him a hint? Secondly, if she wanted to eat there – and he asked her – she probably wouldn’t say no. But then she’d probably much rather go with a thousand other people but him. Except the other day it had seemed like…this was making his head hurt.

“You should have said, maybe I can get M. Boucher to transfer the table to you next Monday,” he eventually said, then tried hard not to watch her reaction carefully. Damn that woman, at times she was an open book – but at others, like now, she was entirely unreadable.

“No, you should keep it for when you have somebody you want to bring.”

Now what was that supposed to mean?

Richard stepped outside to call Martin, so he didn’t get distracted by trying to figure out Camille. He briefly considered trying to talk to Louisa directly, but decided the risk of angering her further before he managed to apologise was too high. If he told Martin, well, as her husband he surely had some influence over her – could maybe convince her to take the peace offering. As long as _he_ didn’t manage to anger her as well.

 

* * *

 

 

“Who was that?” Louisa asked, as Martin hung up the phone. She was trying to cover James in sun cream, though he was wriggling and giggling like crazy.

“Richard. He seemed to think he owed you an apology.”

“He does own me an apology!” Louisa said, exasperated. She had entirely failed to explain to Martin why Richard should not have asked that question.

“Yes, well, in an attempt to make up for it he has secured us reservations at a restaurant called Boucher’s, and has volunteered to babysit James Henry for the evening.”

“I read about that restaurant! Oh it looked amazing, but I never thought we’d be able to get reservations!” Louisa was delighted.

“It seems he has some pull with the owner.”

“Do you think he’d be okay looking after the baby, though?” Louisa asked, thoughtfully. Richard didn’t exactly seem like a natural with children, even though Camille had said he sometimes babysat for other people.

“Yes.” Louisa just raised her eyebrows when Martin didn’t elaborate further. “I believe he said that Bordey woman would help.”

That fact made Louisa feel a lot better. They might have only spent one day together, but she trusted Camille. Plus it would be nice for the two of them to spend some time in a domestic situation, maybe Richard would realise what he was missing out on.

 

* * *

 

 

Louisa actually got a phone call from Camille later that afternoon, when she was sitting by the pool and Martin had actually settled down to read beside her – though under a massive parasol in order to avoid direct sunlight. Louisa felt rather decadent when a member of staff brought a phone out to her.

“I hear you are trusting the Inspector with your child,” Camille had said after the usual small talk.

“Well I heard he wouldn’t necessarily be on his own,” Louisa countered, trying not to sound too much like she hoped she was right on that front.

“That’s what I’m calling about. Is it okay if you bring James to my house and we look after him there? It will actually probably be easier for you, with it being within walking distance of the hotel and restaurant. Richard’s place is a little more…remote.” Camille’s suggestion seemed eminently sensible to Louisa, so she agreed readily.

 

* * *

 

 

The problem with babysitting at Camille’s flat was Richard really thought he should bring something. Since it was going to be dinner time, food would probably be sensible – but he hadn’t ever been any good at cooking. Wine would be inappropriate when they had to care for a child, flowers he thought would imply the wrong thing. She also didn’t seem to particularly care for chocolate (something books and TV had given him the impression _all_ women loved) so unless he thought of something less than traditional yet still appropriate in the next couple of hours he was screwed. Maybe he should go back to his original idea of food – but just not be the one who cooked it. Well, M. Boucher did seem to like him quite a lot…


	6. Taking Advantage

 

“It’s six o’clock they are coming, yes?” Camille asked him.

“I thought you arranged it with Louisa? Don’t you know what you agreed?” Richard tried to keep the exasperation out of his tone, she was after all doing him a favour by helping him out. “Yes, it was six.”

“Yes! I know, sorry, I’m a bit tired.”

Richard frowned, it was unusual for Camille to admit that sort of thing which probably meant she was _really_ tired. “If you’re tired I am sure I can handle one evening with a baby. You never know he might sleep the whole time.”

“No, no, really I’m fine,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. Richard sort of felt he should be a bit more insistent, but then he _really_ did want her help.

“Well, I sorted dinner.” He honestly intended for it to come out as just a statement of fact, but for some reason he sounded nervous.

Camille looked at him warily, “Are you cooking?”

“God no!” Richard reassured her, with a nervous little laugh. “No, I convinced M. Boucher to exchange my table for home delivery, and as such there will be no more weekly phone calls. You said you wanted to try the food. Though he wouldn’t allow me to pick what we were having…” She smiled warmly at him, and Richard felt like he’d achieved something even though that wasn’t his aim…consciously.

“M. Boucher’s reputation is so good I’m sure whatever it is will be fantastic.” Then she bit her lip and asked, “Uh, is it alright if I meet you there in an hour? I just want to pop to the shops?”

“Absolutely, that’s fine.”

He didn’t fully absorb what she said, as he had become distracted by a whispered argument that Dwayne and Fidel seemed to be having. If Camille was leaving he supposed now would be a good idea to deal with them. As soon as she had breezed out of the door, he went over to Fidel’s desk where the two officers were arguing and stood in front of them, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Chief,” Dwayne acknowledged him, managing to look entirely innocent. Fidel, on the other hand, looked incredibly guilty and should probably be grateful he was on the right side of the law because he would never, ever make a criminal mastermind.

“Alright, what was the bet?” He might as well get straight to the point.

Wisely, Dwayne did the talking, “What bet?”

“Let’s not waste any time with denials. Spit it out.” He stared at them, and eventually Fidel cracked under the pressure.

“It was just a small bet Sir, harmless, about whether you would take up M. Boucher on his offer or not,” he explained hurriedly. Richard was certain there was more to it than that.

“Yeah, and what else?”

“Weeeell,” Dwayne began. “It may have been more specifically about if you would take up the offer and take a woman there.”

“And now you’re having a friendly debate over whether this evening counts?” They didn’t need to answer that, the looks on their faces did it for them. “Well neither of you have really won the bet, have you? You didn’t predict this as a situation. So I think, you should both give me the money, which I will then donate to the free clinic and maybe you’ll both learn a lesson about betting.”

He held out his hand expectantly, and the two officers resigned themselves to their fate.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard turned up at Camille’s exactly one hour after she had left the station, as they agreed. Well actually it was fifty minutes, and then he sort of hung about just around the corner because he didn’t want to be early and a possible inconvenience. He also wondered if he should have changed out of the suit, simply because it was now inevitable James would be sick on him.

Camille answered his knock looking…a little flustered actually. He had to remind himself that this was not a date, they were babysitting…with food. He hadn’t expected her to be wearing some little black dress and heels, but he had expected her to look a little less, uh, sweaty.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He said by way of greeting. “You don’t exactly look your best.”

“Why thank you,” she replied sarcastically. “I’m fine, I was just running around trying to tidy a bit, come in!”

“You didn’t have to tidy for me,” he told her, following Camille into the living room.

“I wasn’t really, I was afraid your cousin would perform some sort of microscopic inspection of the place, find a small pile of dust and declare me unsuitable to look after his child,” Camille griped, flopping onto her sofa.

“He’s not _that_ bad. I mean, I know it comes off as him being brash and pedantic and…”

“Rude?” Camille supplied, when he wasn’t able to come up with a better term fast enough.

“And to a certain extent rude, yes, but that is really how he is showing how he cares about the baby. I actually never imagine him as the paternal type,” he admitted.

“Hmmm, I suppose some people do show their emotions in a less traditional manner,” Camille conceded. Richard had to wonder if Camille’s acknowledgement meant she realised he perhaps fell into that category. Whilst he was trying to come up with a way of perhaps pursuing that line of thinking, the doorbell rang, indicating the arrival of his cousin, wife and baby, and Camille went to answer it.

“I am sorry we’re late,” he heard Martin said to Camille.

“You aren’t late,” she reassured him.

“We are two minutes late,” Martin said, entering the living room. Richard glanced at his watch and saw Martin was right. “Louisa couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Behind Martin’s back, Louisa and Camille both rolled their eyes and Richard had to bite down on his tongue to stop himself laughing. Martin was indeed performing an inspection of the room, but was actually being rather subtle about it, glancing around as he set down a bassinet.  He imagined Louisa had given a lecture beforehand.

“He’s had his dinner,” Louisa was explaining as she passed the baby to Camille. Richard decided there was no point in being offended that she was giving all the instructions to Camille, he would do the same if he was her. “But if he gets fussy there is a bottle in there you’ll just need to heat it up. He likes a bedtime story as well, I’ve included three choices I just tend to offer them to him and see which one he wants.”

“Can a baby really have an opinion at his age?” Richard asked Martin quietly.

“No, I’ve explained to Louisa countless times he is just grabbing at whatever one is nearest, but she refuses to acknowledge I am right.”

“If there are any problems at all you know where we are,” Louisa was doing some last minute fussing over her son.

“We’ll be fine Louisa, won’t we Richard?”

Richard thought that very much depended on the temperament of the child, and since he was unfamiliar with that he couldn’t really say. However he also sensed this was one of those times to say something reassuring even if he didn’t know it was true, “Of course we will.”

 

* * *

 

 

James Henry did cry for the first ten minutes after his parents left. The high pitched scream was tempered to mere whimpering by Camille performing what could vaguely be described as dance moves whilst Richard hunted desperately through the many bags Louisa seemed to have packed for some sort of toy that would sooth him. Eventually a blue cloth rabbit got his attention, and before long he’d dozed off and been put down by Camille. They both winced when the doorbell rang (announcing the arrival of the food) but thankfully the baby didn’t stir.

He had to admit, the food did smell good even if he wasn’t sure what most of it was. Despite Camille reassuring him that it wasn’t exclusively French, it appeared the food they had been delivered pretty much fit into that culinary category. Camille noticed him poking one of the dishes with a fork, trying to analyse what it was, and shot him a look to indicate she wasn’t impressed and he should just get on and eat it.

“So your cousin and you, going to school together and sometimes spending the holidays together, you must have been like brothers, right?” Camille asked as they were sitting down.

“How did you know we spent the Easter holidays together?” He didn’t often tell her much about his past, and as a consequence he knew _exactly_ what he had shared.

“Louisa told me.” Oh well, that made sense.

“Well I don’t have a brother so I wouldn’t know if our relationship is akin to that.” He thought it was a sensible reply, but the sigh Camille gave indicated he may have taken the question a little too literally.

“Fine, but it must have been nice going to school with your cousin though.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It wasn’t that kind of school,” Martin told her as he dissected the fish he had ordered.

“What do you mean ‘it wasn’t that kind of school’?” Louisa has asked about the time Martin and Richard had spent at boarding school together. She couldn’t help being a little bit curious about Richard, knowing how Camille felt about him. She found herself oddly keen to play matchmaker, even though she’d never done anything like that before. Any information she could gleam about Richard might be useful, especially if he was as reticent about sharing stories from his past as Martin was.

“Familial relationships weren’t encouraged. It was the sort of school where they expected you to develop the skills of networking from a young age, so cousins and brothers and such were not supposed to be seen talking to each other.” To Louisa’s amazement, Martin sounded like he had no issue with this at all.

“But that’s awful! Surely they couldn’t stop children playing with who they want to though?”

 

* * *

 

 

“God, they could. During my first term Martin told some older boys to, uh, leave me alone basically and then spent some time seeing if I was ok. He got a detention.” Richard frowned, wondering if he should have told Camille that, but it must have been clear to her by now he hadn’t had the best time at school. “You know it really was a very strict school.”

“Why would your parents even send you there?” Camille seem genuinely shocked.

“Well I can’t speak for Martin’s parents, they actually recommended the school to mine. They couldn’t really afford it but they had scholarships at the school and I sat the exams and got one. I think Mum wanted me home about five minutes after I left but Dad convinced her it was an excellent opportunity for me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” and she seemed to mean it.

“I wasn’t after sympathy!” he protested. Richard had no desire for the entire evening to turn into a conversation about the miseries of his childhood.

“Well what did you used to do on your holidays?”

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re showing a lot of interest in Richard.” It was a statement, Martin was clearly on to her.

“I’m showing an interest in you! Asking about things you did together!” She protested.

“Hmm, yes.”

“He is quite a lot like you though, your cousin.” The look she received meant she’d brought Richard up again too soon. She decided to just confess. “Sorry, it’s just, well Camille confided in me that she was…well she, uh, cared for him. I feel sorry for her, was trying to figure out if he felt the same way.”

“Why doesn’t she just ask him?” Martin seemed to think everything was easier if you just got straight to the point.

“Well it doesn’t really work that way. It isn’t very nice to tell somebody you care for them and find out they don’t feel the same way.”

“Well he obviously does, even though it’s entirely unsuitable.” Martin had finished eating, and was pouring himself another glass of water. Louisa, who was on her second glass of wine, had expected him to elaborate after that initial (somewhat shocking) statement, but he was Martin so he did not such thing.

“Did he tell you that?” She asked impatiently. “And why would it be unsuitable?”

“Well, not in so many words. I disturbed him about to, well, kiss Detective Sergeant Bordey and when I asked him about it the next day he denied they were in a relationship. I said I thought that was sensible as a relationship between them would be unsuitable which for some reason he took badly.” Martin paused to raise his eyebrow at the fact Louisa was pursuing the deserts menu but wisely did not comment further. “I pointed out that the differences between them were quite significant, and as a consequence it would be unlikely to work. He then pointed out the fact that you were a warm and sociable person, which is opposite to the way I am, and I agreed with him. He misinterpreted this, hence why he asked if we were only together because of James Henry.”

“Oh,” was all Louisa could come up with immediately. “I can see that now, yes. Why didn’t you tell me all of this earlier? I feel bad now, he went to all this effort to make up for it as well!”

“I did tell you it was a reasonable question considering what we’d been discussion! You wouldn’t listen to me!” Martin’s protest was a little loud given the setting of a romantic restaurant, but Louisa was still annoyed and not quite willing to let it go yet.

“Well you should have made me listen when I was a bit calmer!” she hissed back. Martin opened his mouth to continue the argument, but she cut him off before they made a scene. “No matter what it was still an inappropriate question to ask, but I will acknowledge now I know what you were talking about it makes sense and maybe I should have listened to you. Now I owe Richard an apology.”

“You’ll only embarrass him.” Martin told her firmly, and Louisa could believe that.

“Do you think they are getting on ok?” She asked a little anxiously. She actually felt a little guilty that she had been enjoying her meal, and hadn’t worried about James for a while.

“I am sure Richard would have called if there was a problem.”

“Yeah, yeah he would.” She paused, then added, “Hey, maybe an evening with a baby will be good for their relationship! If James is good he might realise what he is missing out on!”

Martin didn’t look convinced by that idea.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you not like the food?” Richard asked. He’d actually been debating doing so for the last half hour.

“No, it’s lovely!”

“You’re just pushing it around your plate with your fork,” he pointed out. She looked a little guilty that he had realised.

“I’m really sorry Richard. I’ve not had much of an appetite recently. It really is nice but I just can’t eat much and I’m not feeling 100%” As if he detected Camille’s distress, James started to cry. “Probably annoyed he fell asleep before his bedtime story.” Camille said this as she stood (almost gingerly) from the table. Richard frowned as he noticed that Camille grimaced when she bent over to pick up the whimpering baby.

“Are you ill, Camille?” He rose and took the child off her, even though the volume of James’ crying indicated he very much preferred Camille. Some half-hearted jiggling seemed to calm him somewhat though.

“Yes, I’m fine! I just have…stomach cramps.”

Richard immediately began to mentally review the list of conditions that could indicate, then it suddenly dawned on him from Camille’s tone that she might be referring to…feminine issues.

“Oh, _oh._ Well you do look tired. You should go lie down and I’ll look after the baby for a while,” he offered gallantly.

“ _You’re_ going to read him a bedtime story?” He thought the tone of incredulity was quite unnecessary.

“I _do_ know how to read, you know!”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, I know you know how to read. What I _mean_ is you’re going to read one of his books, right? Because I can see you trying to get away with _A Tale of Two Cities_ or some other classic of _English_ literature.”

“No! We’ll read, let me see,” he rummaged in the bag, pulling out the first book there. “ _Dear Greenpeace._ Okay well maybe not that one, as an organisation some of their tactics are undeniably illegal and their stance on genetic modification of plants is entirely unreasonable. I’m surprised Martin would allow this book. We’ll read this one ‘ _Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus_ ’, seems like sensible if unnecessary advice.”

He looked up from examining the title to find Camille smiling warmly at him from the sofa. His stomach did a weird flippy thing it only ever seemed to do when she gave him that exact smile, and then he immediately felt flustered. On this occasion it didn’t really matter, considering how unwell she looked no amount of wishful thinking would lead to anything happening between them this evening.

“Seriously, go lie down, we’ll be fine.”

“Ok, but just come get me if you have a problem.”

“Uh, do you want a hot water bottle?” He had from somewhere dredged up the information that hot water bottles were good for stomach cramps, and made the offer before he could think about it.

She shot him an amused look. “I appreciate the thought but I live in the Caribbean, I don’t own a hot water bottle.”

“Right, yes, of course…”

 

* * *

 

 

Though James had seemed to enjoy the story as he was reading it, clearly Richard hadn’t got something right because he refused to settle further. He tried the bottle, testing the temperature of the milk on about five different places on his body because he was worried he might accidently hit a patch of insensitive skin and burn the baby’s mouth. James had only had a half-hearted attempt at feeding, it was clear he wasn’t really interested. He wasn’t all out screaming, but he clearly had no intention of going back to sleep. Richard was forced to keep walking around to get him to remain relatively calm, and couldn’t help but notice babies were really quite heavy after a while. He could only assume new parentss rapidly developed strong arms. Perhaps they should replace weights in gyms with babies. He ended up chuckling to himself at the idea of testosterone fuelled muscle men cradling babies in their arms.

A few minutes later, a thankfully quiet knock at the door announced the return of Martin and Louisa. Richard caught sight of himself in the mirror, and made a quick attempt to look slightly less harassed. As soon as he opened to door, Louisa took the whimpering James from his arms, seemingly delighted the child had survived the evening without her. Martin was frowning though, clearly surprised that he had found Richard comforting the baby and not Camille.

“Where is Detective Sergeant Bordey?” he asked, as he followed Richard into the house to collect all the things it is necessary to travel with when one has a small child.

Richard indicated he should perhaps choose a softer tone of voice with his hands, before saying quietly, “She wasn’t feeling so well so is lying down.”

Martin looked up sharply from packing away the toys, “What are her symptoms?”

Richard realised where this was heading, and decided to cut Martin off, “No, um, not _ill_ unwell, she was suffering from, um, woman’s problems.” Richard decided he should learn to say ‘period’ – if he could say it to anyone surely it would be a doctor?

“So cramps, yes?” He had really hoped that Martin was going to drop the subject at that.

“Yeah, and she wasn’t very hungry and quite tired.”

“I’m going to check her.” Martin said this and immediately marched off across the room, opening doors in an effort to locate Camille.

“Martin!” Louisa and Richard both cried, trying to get him to stop. “You can’t just barge in on the woman,” Louisa tried to reason with him.

Martin rounded on the two of them, “The symptoms Richard described are not always conducive with normal discomfort caused by menstruation. She could have an infection and if so James has been exposed to that infection and it is important I ascertain what is wrong with her.”

Louisa paused for a moment, before turning to Richard and saying reasonably, “Well it wouldn’t hurt to let him check her over.” Richard couldn’t blame her for being cautious where her child was concerned, but he also knew that Camille was going to kill him for allowing Martin in. He mentally prepared himself for a future full of grovelling.

Martin burst in through the door, and Richard say a prayer of thanks Camille was actually wearing something. She grimaced when Martin turned the lights on and protested, if somewhat feebly, “You can’t just burst in here, you know!”

Martin ignored her, “Do you normally suffer from dysmenorrhoea?”

“What?”

“Period pain, do you normally suffer from period pain?” He asked impatiently. She shook her head no. “Then why on earth would you think you are this time?” Martin said, clearly frustrated, as he placed a hand on your forehead. “You’re running a fever, you have some kind of infection.”

He pushed down on her stomach and when he released she let out an “Ow!” of protest. “Have you been sick?” he asked, peering into her face again.

“No, but the longer I’m in your presence the more nauseous I feel.” Richard was impressed with her comeback, but having been the recipient of many sassy comments over the course of their working relationship he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t manage to deliver it with her normal level of venom. She was clearly ill and feeling weak, now Martin had stopped probing her she had closed her eyes and looked like she might actually be asleep.

“Fever, rebound tenderness, stomach pain – all indicate possible appendicitis. We should get her to hospital.”

“Right,” Richard tried to put himself into Detective Inspector mode, because right now there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had to ignore if he was going to be helpful. He pulled out his phone, “Ambulance, please.”

The word ‘ambulance’ seemed to rouse Camille again, probably her inability to ever be off duty, “What, why are you calling an ambulance?”

Martin leaned towards her and spoke loudly and clearly, a bit like he was trying to explain something to a child, “You have suspected Appendicitis. We need to take you into hospital so you can have it removed before it ruptures, flooding your body with infection and causing sepsis and eventually death.” Martin’s explanation did nothing to ease Richard’s fears.

Camille seemed to take a moment to gather her strength, before muttering, “It isn’t appendicitis. It’ll just turn out to be period pain and the flu or something.”

“I’m the doctor, I do the diagnosis and you are the patient and I say you rest.”

“Will I get a different doctor if I go to hospital?” she asked, seemingly unwilling to argue any further.

“Yes.”

“Then that ambulance cannot arrive fast enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If somebody looked at my search history, they would probably think I have a serious hypochondria problem.


	7. Taking Full Advantage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All medical mistakes are because google is not an actual doctor, and though I am my patients tend to be green, sessile and a hell of a lot easier to treat than Camille. As for the procedure mistakes, um, creative licence?

Martin decided to ignore Camille’s protest and travel in the ambulance with her. She was his patient for the moment, and he was going to make sure she got to the hospital and on to the operating table as soon as possible. Her temperature was spiking, which concerned him, but Richard assured him she had not ate a lot so they could most likely perform the appendectomy as soon as a theatre was free.

“She’s in pain, let’s give her some morphine for it and get a line in,” he instructed the paramedic.

The Detective Sergeant muttered something about not wanting any painkillers, but he assumed she was just being stubborn. He really didn’t understand what Richard saw in her. Hopefully the morphine would have the added benefit and getting her to sleep again. He was holding out his hand for an ampule of morphine, and glared at the paramedic when it was not immediately forthcoming.

“Uh, might administering pain killers interfere in her diagnosis?” The young man said nervously.

“That is a medical myth, man. Appendicitis is a clinical diagnosis and does not require your patient to be writing in pain. Now, I am the Doctor, and I asked for morphine!” The paramedic hurried to respond to his barked orders, whilst Camille had found the energy to glare at him.

“Richard used to think he was right all the time as well, soon got him out of that habit,” she said rather weakly.

“I _am_ right this time,” he told her, and then administered the painkiller. As he hoped, she drifted off pretty quickly under the effects of the opiate. “Right, let’s save the hospital some time and get blood from her now.”

 

* * *

 

 

Louisa could see how concerned Richard was. He probably wanted to go in the ambulance with Camille, yet for some reason he had not volunteered. He looked immensely relieved when Martin had insisted on continuing to care for Camille on the trip to the hospital. Though she should really get James back to the hotel and settled down for the night, there was no way she could leave him looking so forlorn and concerned.

“Come on, I’ll come to the hospital with you. Don’t worry she’ll be fine with Martin,” she said kindly.

“Yes of course,” he replied, roused from his revere by Louisa’s words. “Um, do you think she’ll want me there, then?”

It said a lot about Richard’s insecurities that he felt that Louisa, a woman who had known Camille for a couple of days, would know more about her feelings than he would – a man who had been working with her for well over a year. It seemed to her his default was to assume people didn’t want him around, but luckily for him Louisa had learned a lot about Camille in a short time and was able to reassure him that with her, this definitely was not the case.

“Yes, of course she would. Now come on, knowing Martin he may well have cobbled together to necessary equipment to perform the appendectomy on the ambulance.” It was meant to be a joke, but he looked at her in such alarm she had to hurry to reassure him once again. “Not really!”

 

* * *

 

 

Martin rose as Richard and Louisa entered the waiting room. Camille had been transferred on to a pre-surgery ward nearly immediately upon her rival, her bloods sent to the lab to confirm infection. Martin had spoken to the A & E Doctor and they were in agreement about the likely cause of the police officer’s illness.

“She is stable for the moment, they will just wait for her antibody results to confirm infection and then I imagine they’ll operate in the next hour or so.”

“See, I told you she would be fine,” Louisa said, rubbing Richard’s arm in what she probably thought was a reassuring manner but Martin could detect was actually making him a little uncomfortable. What he couldn’t understand is why Richard still looked so concerned, had he not understood what Martin had just said?

Louisa was staring at him now, clearly attempting to communicate something with him. He looked back at her, entirely clueless, until she rolled her eyes and excused herself, dragging Martin off to the other side of the waiting room.

“Martin, can’t you say something comforting?”

“Like what?”

She shook her head at him, clearly frustrated. “Just tell him Camille is going to be alright!”

“Oh, right.”

He walked over to Richard and said “The surgery will be approximately 30 minutes. If they are set up for it, they will operate using a laparoscopy which only requires a small incision of around 2.5cm. If not the incision will be larger, up to 8 cm. The appendix is examined and confirmed as the source of the infection, though there is also an examination of the rest of the intestine to make sure it is healthy. The appendix is then detached and the cecum stitched to close the wound, before the patient is closed up. Complication rate is low, less than 3%”

“You mean, there is a 3% chance she could…” Richard wasn’t being rational, but then Martin remembered how he had felt on occasions Louis had been in danger and decided to forgive him that for the moment.

“No, no, morbidity rate is 1 in 100000. Complications would be things like wound infections and they are more likely to occur in individuals with underlying medical problems. Since Detective Bordey is a serving police office subject to yearly medical checks it is unlikely this applies to her. I expect her to make a full recovery.”

 

* * *

 

 

Watching Richard visibly relax at the end of Martin’s explanation, Louisa realised she had met one of the few people on the planet well suited to Martin’s unique brand of bedside manner. Whereas she would have just been left feeling overwhelmed and a little frustrated, Richard had absorbed all of the information and been able to take comfort from it. She just hoped Martin didn’t think that because it worked well on Richard he had perhaps miraculously improved in that area and stopped listening to the gentle advice she had been giving him the past few months. Still, when she sat down next to him, she gave him a smile to show her approval at his actions.  

A doctor entered the room and looked around, recognising Richard she walked over but had a small frown on her face. “Catherine still on her way then?” She asked, and Richard’s expression immediately changed to one of alarm.

“Christ, I entirely forgot to call her. I’ll do it now!”

“No it’s ok, I can do it,” the doctor told him. “Let’s face it, she would probably rather here it from me.” Louisa thought that Catherine must be Camille’s mother, she thought she remembered Camille mentioning how she ran a bar on Saint Marie.

Richard opened his mouth, probably to thank the woman, but Martin barged in to ask, “Are the blood results back yet?”

The woman looked a little confused as to why a stranger was asking such a question, clearly this was not the doctor Martin had spoken to earlier. Louisa rolled her eyes, all he had to do was take a moment to introduce himself. Luckily it seemed his cousin had slightly better manners.

“Dr Ash this is my cousin Dr Martin Ellingham. He came in with Camille on the ambulance,” Richard supplied.

“Oh right, yes, Harrison in A & E did mention you,” Dr Ash stuck out her hand and Martin shook it rather impatiently.

“Her white cell count?” Martin prompted again.

Dr Ash hesitated for a moment, then seemingly decided it would just be easier to pass on the information, “High, definitely fighting off an infection. Given the abdominal pain and rebound tenderness you described appendicitis is a likely diagnosis, I agree. I came out just to let you know she’s stable and everything, but it will be a little while before we can operate.”

“Thank you Doctor.” Richard said.

Martin, it seemed, was not done with the woman yet though. “Why are you waiting? Surely you have no routine surgeries scheduled for this time, there must be a theatre free? Waiting will greatly increase the risk of complications!”

“Yes…” Dr Ash said slowly.  “I’m afraid the surgeon who is on duty this evening is dealing with a compound fracture that came in earlier. Since, as I have mentioned, Detective Sergeant Bordey is stable it is not worth calling in the on call surgeon. I’m afraid we don’t exactly have an abundance of surgeons on Saint Marie, and I’m sure you can appreciate we cannot operate if we don’t have a surgeon.”

“You do,” Martin said shortly. Louisa knew where this was going, and wasn’t quite sure if she was pleased or not. His dedication to his patients was something she loved about him, but the way he forced his opinion on other people wasn’t high on the list. “I can perform the operation.”

Richard added, “His licence to practise medicine in the UK is valid for Saint Marie.”  

Dr Ash still looked like she’d rather not hand over a theatre to an unknown entity, but Richard was giving her a somewhat pleading look. It appeared she might have a soft spot for the officer – or maybe she too didn’t really want to delay Camille’s treatment if it could be helped. Either way she sighed and said, “There is a junior doctor assisting the anaesthetist in the compound surgery procedure, and I can probably find a couple of theatre nurses. Probably not the sort of team you’re used to in the UK.”

“It will be fine.”

“Give me a few moments,” Dr Ash left the room, presumably to arrange everything for Martin to perform the surgery.

“Martin, um, I…is that thing about UK Medical licences correct?” Richard asked hesitantly.

Martin frowned, “Yes, why did you say it if you didn’t know it was true?”

Richard looked uncomfortable and stared at the floor. Louisa elbowed Martin and gave him a look to indicate he should drop it, which thankfully he did.

“Don’t worry,” he told Richard. “I’ll take good care of her.”

 

* * *

 

 

Martin wasn’t sure what Dr Ash had been concerned about, the conditions seemed perfectly adequate to him. Yes, he would have preferred an anaesthetist with a little more confidence – but for a routine procedure such as this he would do just fine. Both of the theatre nurses seemed experienced and professional, he had half expected reggae music to be playing when he entered but thankfully that proved not to be the case.

Laparoscopy proved not to be an option after all, but since the Detective Sergeant appeared to have what he was 90% sure to be a scar caused by a bullet on her abdomen already, an appendectomy one was not likely to cause her any bother. It didn’t take long after opening her up though to establish he had a problem.

“Ah,” he said, feeling like a bit of an idiot. “It isn’t appendicitis.”

“Oh just grumbling, is it? Might as well whip it out though,” his assistant said cheerfully.

“No, it’s not that either.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, when your patient doesn’t actually have an appendix it is pretty obvious that they are _not_ suffering from appendicitis!” He snapped. Damn it, the Bordey woman had tried to tell him as well, but he had assumed being contrary was in her nature.

“Well I’ve seen her blood counts and temperature, she must have an infection in her abdomen somewhere!” Martin didn’t respond to that, because it wasn’t helpful in the slightest. Of course she had an infection elsewhere, and now Martin had no choice but to do exploratory surgery to try and find where.

At that moment, Dr Ash activated the intercom from the observation room to helpfully inform them that Camille’s mother had arrived, and assured her that Camille had her appendix removed in France a few years earlier. Typical, ten minutes earlier and he wouldn’t have made the incision yet.

The rest of the gut looked perfectly healthy, so he moved to the uterus where the problem became apparent immediately. “Damn it, it’s a uterine fibroid. Looks like the blood supply got cut off and now it’s infected. It’s not going to be easy to remove.”

“Doctor,” his colleague said hesitantly. “That is a pretty serious infection. If we leave one seed of it in there…”

“This is a young woman, who hasn’t had children and still has the opportunity to do so. I am _not_ going to perform a hysterectomy just because it is the easier option. I am also _not_ going to leave any trace of infected tissue in here, no matter how long it takes to ensure that, do you understand?” Something in his tone had turned the anaesthetist mute, as he merely nodded in response. “Right, you just keep an eye on her vitals and make sure she stays asleep. Nurse, I need more clamps.”

 

* * *

 

 

Catherine had blustered in about twenty minutes after Martin had gone off to prep for the surgery. She had glared at Richard as if he was personally responsible for Camille’s illness, which he thought was a little unfair. He was pretty confident he did not have the ability to induce appendicitis. Richard did briefly consider leaving now she was here, but knew he would be able to think of nothing else until he knew Camille was okay.

“What is the matter with her? Cassandra Ash called and said she had an infection but was stable.”

“Oh, um, appendicitis. She is having it removed now, she’ll be fine.” Catherine had always struck him as the happy-go-lucky, optimistic type. He fully expected her to accept the diagnosis with cries of pity for her daughter, and then launch into explaining her full scale plan to aid Camille’s recovery. He imagined it would involve vast amounts of chicken soup. For Camille, this would have the added benefit of keeping him away, as he couldn’t even smell the stuff without feeling mildly nauseous.

But that was not how Catherine reacted, instead she looked rather alarmed and asked for confirmation. “Did you say appendicitis?”

“Yes. It’s quite common Catherine, she’ll be fine.” Reassuring somebody when you were really quite worried yourself was an odd experience, he felt.

“I know that! So common in fact Camille has _already had it_. She got it during training in France, it cannot be appendicitis!”

Richard’s level of anxiety reached a new high for the evening, “Are you sure?”

“You think I would be wrong about my own daughter’s medical history?” She asked indignantly.

Richard held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, “No, of course not, I, um, I’ll find Dr Ash…”

 

* * *

 

 

What was supposed to be a half hour procedure had now dragged on for 2 hours. Dr Ash had come out to assure them that Martin was in a good position to identify and fix whatever was causing the infection. Louisa had stepped in and given a series of rather heartfelt reassurances to Catherine concerning her husband’s skill and dedication as a surgeon, and Richard had thought that Martin really was quite lucky to have her. It had seemed to work with Catherine, who had sat down with Louisa and spoken about her baby and other such things to pass the time.

Martin walked through the doors, Richard noted a small amount of blood on his scrubs and felt his anxiety levels skyrocket again. Probably for the first time, Richard wished Martin’s face was easier to read, because it felt a very long time before he spoke. As much as he just wanted Martin to spit out the news, he took a moment to introduce Catherine properly, and it was to her Martin actually gave the update to.

“She’s fine. We identified and removed the source of the infection. She’ll need a course of strong antibiotics and some time off to recover but she’ll be fine. The Detective Sergeant is currently in recovery. I’ll go check on her then send somebody to fetch you, Madam Bordey.”

Richard was immensely relieved, but Catherine looked ready to throw her arms around Martin. She refrained – perhaps spotting the look of alarm on Martin’s face when he realised her intentions. Louisa, however, did accept a hug whilst Richard sidled off to talk to Martin more.

“What was it?” He said, catching up with Martin in a corridor he was not entirely sure he was permitted to be in.

“Richard, I appreciate you are concerned but you aren’t actually family so…”

“Oh Martin, you can tell me now or I can read it in her medical report in a couple of weeks! What difference will it make?”

Martin looked like he was going to argue, the man was as much of a stickler for rules as Richard, but then the logic of the argument seemed to change his mind, “She had a massive uterine fibroid that had begun to die and became infected. I assume Detective Sergeant Bordey is a stubborn sort of woman?”

“God yes, but what has that got to do with it?”

“She must have been symptomatic but suffering through it. Perhaps in the future you could advise her to actually seek medical attention when she is feeling unwell.”

“Martin…you said, um, _uterine_ fibroid?” He asked cautiously.

“Yes, a non-cancerous tumour in her uterus,” Martin confirmed. That sort of expansion wasn’t actually what Richard had been after.

“Will she, I mean, can she, um still..?”

Luckily, Martin picked up on what he was trying to ask, “Well, I don’t think that is actually relevant to her ability to perform as a police officer but I took significant measures in order to preserve her fertility. I’m hopeful that if she should choose to do so she will be able to conceive naturally.”

Richard had to admit, he was relieved. Though she complained about her mother’s pressure to supply her with grandchildren, he knew Camille did actually want to have kids of her own one day. If Martin had confirmed what he feared, he would not even know where to start comforting her.

“Can I go check on my patient now?”

“Right, yes, of course. Um, tell her I said…um, feel better. Or something else, you know, um, comforting…”

Martin was frowning, apparently confused by his request – or perhaps unwilling to fulfil it. He supposed he could pass on a message through Catherine.

“Why don’t you stay and tell her yourself? She should be waking up shortly.” It was not the response from Martin he expected.

“I don’t think she’s going to want to see me,” he explained.

“I disagree.” It was all very well getting straight to the point, but Richard did wish Martin would throw in a couple of explanations here and there. Richard didn’t have to ask for clarification though, as Martin did elaborate. “The two of you seem close. I imagine she wants to see you.”

Richard knew what Martin was implying now, the same thing Louisa had seemed to be trying to tell him earlier. Honestly, yesterday the man had called a potential relationship with Camille a bad idea, but now he seemed to be indicating approval – albeit in a very roundabout way. Richard was far too tired to deal with it.

“Well, you know, Catherine won’t want to be kept waiting and God help anyone who gets in her way. Plus once she is in there I imagine the hospital staff will have quite a few issues removing her again, so you know, all in all, probably best if I don’t.”

“Ok,” Martin agreed after what seemed like a very long pause. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

 

The first words his patient spoke to him were, “It’s not appendicitis.”

He tempered his reply, aware the effects of the anaesthetic would have made her confused, “Yes, I am aware, that became clear when we attempted to remove your appendix and found it was not there.”

“You operated? I don’t remember…”

“You were unconscious. Your symptoms were actually being caused by an infected uterine fibroid, which I have removed successfully. I expect you to make a full recovery without any effects on your fertility. How are you feeling?”

“Tired…a bit sore.” The latter part of her response concerned him, if she ignored the symptoms of her fibroid ‘a bit sore’ may actually translate as ‘in considerable pain’.

“Do you want an increase in your painkillers?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine. It really isn’t that bad.”

“Richard expressed concern for you.”

Martin couldn’t help but notice she perked up at the sound of his cousin’s name, “Oh?”

“Yes, I believe he would have stayed to see you but he appears to be terrified of your mother.” She gave a small laugh, and then grimaced in pain. Martin made a note on her chart to give her a small increase in pain relief. “Do you want to see her now?”

“I doubt I have a choice,” she said, attempted to sit up.

“Very well.”

He turned to leave, and the last thing she said to him before he did so was, “I told you it wasn’t appendicitis!”

What _did_ Richard see in her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter, but I think it needs another one really…


	8. A Condition that is Disadvantageous for Romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this is the last chapter, and yes I’ll write a sequel (after all my other sequels…or before…whenever inspiration hits!)

Camille woke the next morning feeling slightly less sore but still really rather groggy. A nurse was fussing over her, taking her vitals and writing on her chart. After a few moments, she realised her carer was Marguerite Descamps, an old friend of her mother’s. Camille had the feeling this was not a coincidence, and that every detail of her condition would be being reported back.

After exchanging pleasantries, she asked, “When do you think I can go home?”

“That will be up to the doctor. I’m sure he’ll be by sometime this morning. Now would you like some breakfast? A little toast, perhaps?” She might have phrased it as a question, but the nurse placed a plate with the aforementioned toast on in front of her and Camille knew it wasn’t actually an option, though she still felt a bit nauseous.

“That Doc Martin is quite something, isn’t he?” Camille presumed her nurse was still present to ensure she ate something, but at least Camille was going to get an opportunity to have a moan.

“Oh, tell me about it!” She proceeded to nibble on her toast whilst she waited for Marguerite to share some shocking story with her about how Martin Ellingham had behaved.

“ _Such_ a talented surgeon, you really are very lucky.” Oh, that was not what Camille had been expected. The older woman must have realised this from her expression, so smiled at her kindly and explained. “You know, my dear, I spoke to the theatre nurses and some of the other doctors. There aren’t that many people round here that could have performed the surgery as he did – they may well have opted for a hysterectomy.”

“Oh.” It was all she could come up with for the moment.

“Yes, well, he was in the right place at the right time I guess. Like I said, you’re very lucky. Speaking of lucky, there is a young man hanging about, annoying my nurses and asking after you every few minutes or so.” She gave Camille a knowing sort of smile that actually made her blush. “You feel up for seeing him?”

Camille was suddenly very aware that she might not actually be looking her best after surgery and felt really rather self-conscience about that fact. She subtly tried to catch her reflection in the mirror over the sink on the other side of the room, and her fears were concerned. She was now torn, as she did really want to see Richard, but she also knew it would take her a fair while to look anywhere close to decent. Right now just getting out of bed to get to the mirror seemed like a massive task, but she would do it if necessary. Marguerite was still smiling at her, so Camille guessed the woman could read her mind.

“I could put your hair up for you?” She offered kindly. “And finish that toast!”

 

* * *

 

 

Richard had bought flowers on the way to the hospital, then panicked and given them to a random woman on the street because the only other time he had bought her flowers was after Aimee died and he was worried it would bring back bad memories. Earlier he had found a card, though had yet to write anything in it. He’d then run into a store to look at chocolates, but had realised she probably wouldn’t have a brilliant appetite after surgery. Knowing his luck the site of the things would probably be enough to make her feel nauseous. He walked out of the shop thinking hard, and very nearly ran straight into Louisa.

 

* * *

 

 

When a man came close to colliding with her, Louisa turned around to give him a lecture about looking where he was going. After all she was carrying James and he could have been really hurt! The rant never materialised though as before she could speak she recognised a rather harassed looking Richard and instead greeting him warmly. “Richard, hello! James and I were just off to the beach since Martin is going to go check on your Camille this morning.” He didn’t respond immediately, and she peered into his face feeling somewhat concerned. “Are you okay? You look a bit flustered.”

“Sorry, I was going to visit Camille but I, um, I was trying to find something suitable, you know, to bring…” He looked a bit concerned then, perhaps worried she would perceive him as completely useless, so hurried to add, “I got her a card!”

He flourished the thing in front of Louisa, who plucked it from his hand and resisted the urge to shake her head in disbelief. Richard must have caught something in her face though, because he asked, “What’s wrong with it?”

Actually, it wasn’t _nearly_ as bad as some of the card’s Martin had given her, “Well it’s not the _usual_ sort of get well card.”

“It’s _The Blue Boy_ by Gainsborough. It’s his most famous piece. My tutor at Cambridge _made_ me do a module on the Rococo movement. I think it’s a classic painting…”

“It’s fine Richard! So, do you want some help picking out flowers?” Judging from his choice in get well soon cards, Louisa imagined he may need some guidance when it came to floral arrangements.

“Not flowers!” He cried, apparently alarmed by the idea. James whimpered, taken aback by the volume of his exclamation, and Richard looked apologetically at her. “Sorry, the only other time I gave her flowers was when her friend had died, you see.”

“Right…well, I don’t think that means flowers are out of the question for the rest of your life but I can see where you are coming from. Have you considered buying a nice plant instead? One she can keep?” Louisa didn’t say ‘and it will remind her you are actually quite sweet when you want to be whenever she looks at it’, but she did think it. Something about those two was definitely turning her into a bit of a matchmaker.

He looked like it was the revelation of the century, “Yes, a plant, that’s a fantastic idea! Thank you!” Richard looked like he was going to immediately rush off to buy one but something caused him to pause, turn back to her and ask, “Any advice on what kind of plant?”

Ah yes, Louisa thought, here was a man that _could_ be trained.

 

* * *

 

 

Richard sat in the waiting room, carefully clutching the _Hippeastrum papilio_ he had bought for Camille (with Louisa’s help). He really hoped Camille didn’t ask for the common name, because he couldn’t remember it for the life of him. He wasn’t allowed to see Camille straight away because she was asleep, and he got the impression he may have rather annoyed some of the staff with his regular queries. Thus he was currently attempting to sit quietly in the waiting room, and not worry the leaves off the poor plant. The florist who supplied the plant gave him a card to go with it, and Louisa had gently suggested he use that instead of the one he had. Richard _did_ actually know how to take a hint.

“Inspector Poole?” He jolted at the voice and very nearly dropped the plant, but luckily the nurse that had addressed him quickly stooped to steady it. “Camille is awake and would like to see you.”

Though you might think that after he had waited so long he would immediately leap to his feet, he paused for a moment to consider the way the nurse had phrased that. Camille _would like_ to see him? God, he was probably reading far too much into that, what a sad man he was.   

“There was a bit of a delay because she was worried how she looked, poor thing.” Then again, perhaps he wasn’t. “I think the doctor is due quite soon so you might have to leave, but I am sure you’ll be okay to see her afterwards.”

He knocked and stuck his head round the door. She smiled and beckoned him in.

“I, um, bought you a plant,” he stuck it out nervously in front of him, and was relieved to see her smile was a genuine one.

“Oh, it’s beautiful! Could you put it down on the table here please, beside me?” He did as instructed, and then sort of stood there in awkward silence. “God, do I look so bad I’ve left you incapable of speech?”

“No! No, you look fine, really. Um, how are you feeling?”

She shrugged, “Fine, mostly. A little sore. I think Martin is going to come talk to me soon. We did speak last night but I was a bit groggy, and maybe a bit rude to him.”

Richard smiled, “I get the feeling you won’t be the first patient to have lost patience with him…”

Richard had to stop himself, because at that moment the man himself bustled into the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Martin paused when he realised Richard was there, he hadn’t expected him in so early, “Ah, good morning. I had come to check on Detective Sergeant Bordey and make sure she understands her prognosis.”

Richard immediately made to leave by Camille said, “Wait!” Then turned to Martin and asked, “Is there going to be much prodding and poking?”

“I would like to check the incision that is all.”

“Oh well then you can stay,” Camille told Richard. This surprised him as much as it did Martin. Camille proceeded to explain, “It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before!”

Martin merely raised both eyebrows at that comment, and Richard stepped in hastily to clarify, “She was in a bikini! I was arresting her!”

“You arrested a fellow police officer?” Martin asked, wishing he could just get on with the damn examination.

“I didn’t know she was a police officer at the time!” Sergeant Bordey seemed quite amused by the whole situation, and Martin decided it really wasn’t worth trying to unravel the whole story at this very moment.

“Well I appreciate that, Sergeant Bordey, but I also wish to discuss your condition with you so perhaps it would be best if Richard steps out…” Richard looked perfectly willing to comply, but Camille interrupted again.

“Oh he can hear it now or read it in the official medical report in a few weeks, what difference does it make?” Richard smiled at her statement, and Martin marvelled at her near perfect repetition of what Richard had argued the night before. Perhaps they spent too much time in each other’s company. She was clearly determined that Richard should stay though, and if she had his permission to continue there was really no reason why he shouldn’t. Richard seemed to understand Camille’s desire for his continued presence as well,  he was looking at her with a ridiculously sentimental expression that Martin shuddered to think may sometimes grace his own features when with his wife.

“Very well, how is your pain this morning?”

“Still a bit sore,” she said. She grimaced when he pressed the area around the incision, “That doesn’t exactly help.”

“Yes, but it is necessary. Do you remember our conversation last night clearly?”

“Yes, mostly, um, are you sure about what you said?”

Well that was a bit vague, “Yes, but if you specify any particular concerns perhaps I could be clearer and alleviate your fears.”

“About it not affecting my ability to have children?”

“I intend to refer you to a gynaecologist but I don’t believe it will affect your ability to conceive, though I would advise against attempting to conceive for at least six months. Any pregnancy should be monitored carefully as there are a few rare complications that could occur.” Camille looked relieved, turned her smile on Richard who returned it somewhat more shyly. He noticed that his cousin had also taken her hand at some point.

“In the future, Detective Sergeant, I strongly advise when symptomatic you consult a doctor. Though I am also confident your colleagues will be keeping a careful eye on you from now on. Bed rest for at least two weeks, with only the lightest of exercise, and then you can began to build up again to your normal routine. I am sure the doctors here will be able to advise you. Have a good day.”

He turned to leave but stopped when Camille called out, “Martin, uh, Dr Ellingham?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Yes,” he replied, and then walked out the door. Halfway down the corridor though, he decided that given the way they had been looking at each other as he left, there was something else he really better make clear.

When he marched back into the room Richard was unnecessarily brushing hair off Camille’s face. They both looked at him in surprise as he announced, “I wanted to make it clear that sexual intercourse and recent uterine surgery do not mix, and should be included in the list of physical activities you avoid for at least two weeks.”

Richard instantly stepped away from Camille looking a little horrified, but Martin just assumed that meant the message had hit home. For some reason though Camille was glaring at him.

Martin decided to leave quickly, and get on with the rest of his honeymoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My favourite line from Doc Martin is “Osteoporosis and sex on dining room tables don’t mix!” so I simply had to find a way to “remix” and include it here.


End file.
